


used (affectionate)

by callmefairyofthesea



Series: just because it's temporary doesn't mean it's worth less [5]
Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: F/F, Mildly Dubious Consent, Raven and Blackfire are using each other, Sexual Content, Sort Of, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, also it's right after the funeral, because Raven is an empath and high on Blackfire's emotions, but they talk about it, has some steamy art at the end, not enough to get tagged as explicit but it's not fluffy either, you can't see anything though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmefairyofthesea/pseuds/callmefairyofthesea
Summary: In the aftermath of Galfore’s funeral, Raven has a decision to make.Set in the same universe as "no man is an island."
Relationships: Komand'r/Raven (DCU), Raven/Blackfire
Series: just because it's temporary doesn't mean it's worth less [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185842
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	used (affectionate)

**Author's Note:**

> This time, we get to sit in Raven’s head. This is the steamiest piece of the entire collection, but I thought it was important to address how Raven is working through her new emotions. Not all relationships are healthy. She and Blackfire are very much using each other. Content warning for brief mentions of dubious consent.

Since Paris, staring at green lips wet with espresso, maybe Raven has entertained the thought. Maybe she has watched the lines of love and lust tangle together, wondering when she might find the time to knot them around herself. Maybe Raven has gasped into sheets with doors locked, shredding pillowcases, splintering windows, and maybe she has trembled in sweat and new feelings. 

Part of the learning curve, she has told herself in the shower, running hands over wet skin, imagining someone else, imagining strangers, imagining him. Imagining her. Imagining them.

A slow exploration, she has promised herself.

Looking at the long lines of beautiful people.

Feeling the long lines of herself.

Thinking that it is not so overwhelming alone. Thinking that she wasn’t ready for Gar, but this is easy. Slow aches that build between her legs, and maybe Raven likes the purple ink that spills across her white cloak, the emotions that roll through her mirror and stain her clothes the color of arousal.

Until Tamaran, she thought she could handle it.

And Raven doesn’t have many regrets, but the night after the funeral might be one of them.

When she wakes up naked.

It comes too fast, a punch of consciousness that snaps her eyes open and smells like sex on the silver sheets. Everything is still warm with sweat. Their blankets, their hair, the curve of Blackfire’s tattooed breast, their torsos that move together. Slowing inhaling. Caving in.

It comes too fast, and Raven has red skin and blood on her bottom lip from where her fangs have bitten down, and the room is crimson around the edges, the ceiling blurred where her second pair of eyes is staring.

It comes too fast, and she grabs her ripped robes from the funeral, the golden cloth that her magic destroyed, shaking so hard that the memories are sparklers and pop rocks.

The pieces won’t fit together because yesterday is dark.

Yesterday was heavy, stifling, everyone’s grief pressing her into a tiny, crumpled punching bag, and yesterday was wishing that she could make it stop, _needing_ to make it stop, standing on the edge of that golden cliff and offering—

 _Make it stop,_ Blackfire’s voice had whispered.

It comes too fast, and Raven didn’t know that she could get drunk on someone else’s libido. She’s been buzzed before, hungover on happy instead of vodka, but last night was something else. Something that burned hard and explosive, something like addiction.

“Leaving so soon?” a voice slurs from the broken bed and twisted sheets, and Raven has to bite back the coil in her stomach. The sharp flutter of panic.

She turns away to pull on clothes. Tugging boots over her socks. Refusing to look at the hard curves of Blackfire’s muscles, the crook of her hip rolling over. “Last night was a mistake.”

“Kind of late to take it back, don’t you think?”

When Raven tugs a tattered curtain sideways, the sky is half-crimson, both suns near the horizon. Morning. She thinks. The morning after the funeral, which is the first morning that the team has nothing to do.

It means no one is looking for her.

Something hard throbs inside her.

“I’m an empath,” she says without looking at Blackfire. “I wasn’t thinking clearly at the funeral.”

There is a long, sticky beat of silence. As if they are both hearing the words for the first time and seeing last night for what it was.

“Xhal,” says Blackfire.

“Not like—” Raven can’t say it, because it’s true. “I would have stopped you if I didn’t like it.”

There is an unspoken, _Would you?_

The sheets rustle as Blackfire stretches. Long and bare, black hair spilling back from the curve of her breasts, thighs rocking sideways so she can stare. At Raven. “I’ve fucked demons before. None of them were empaths.”

“Half-human.”

“I’ve fucked humans too.” Blackfire’s aura feels a little too smoky, a little too smug, a little too hungover.

Standing in sheer golden robes, feeling dark eyes roam down her chest, Raven thinks this is a mistake. “I won’t say that last night wasn’t…nice.”

It’s rash to admit it. But she’s still red with her bloodline’s genes, and maybe one night is not terrible.

“Only nice?” Blackfire asks, sliding her legs together. The crimson light of the window glitters against her calves.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to do it again.”

Blackfire stares; the curtain trembles with warm wind. And Raven doesn’t move because she is still fanged, feral, her magic unstable between them.

“That was your first time,” Blackfire says. She leaves the question unspoken.

Raven doesn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

She stares at the floor.

“I’m an ex-con who got high as shit at my knorfka’s evali’wanpaq. Why the fuck would you let me—?”

“—I know you don’t get attached.”

The confession stings the silence. Sits between them on the ceramic tiles and gilded rug. And when Raven dares to look up, Blackfire’s face is twisted. Her emotions taste sour, tart.

“Cute. Keep me company after the funeral. Fuck me while I’m messed up. Forget it happened. Guess you got what you wanted.”

“A lot of these emotions are new to me,” Raven says, as though it takes the edge off, as though this makes it better. “I didn’t want to mess up with someone…”

“Someone who actually matters.”

“Blackfire—” she starts, guilt crashing forward. It sounds worse out loud.

“Don’t call me Blackfire.”

“I didn’t mean—"

“You don’t get to fuck me without knowing my _name._ ”

“What did you expect?” Raven snaps, anger building, leaking black light from her nailbeds. “When you kissed me the second—”

“I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted—”

“—a distraction,” Raven snorts. Thinking that Blackfire is dynamite, that she’s the spark. Last night they used each other, and the aftermath feels like shame. “I can’t—I have to—”

She starts toward the door before her magic shatters and tears the rest of the room apart, before she loses composure, before Blackfire can pull her back with warm lips, whimpers. She bangs the door open with a flick of her wrist and black energy, robes wrapped tight around her shoulders. And she doesn’t know where she plans to go looking like this, just knows that she needs to leave before she makes another mistake.

Before the _newness_ of everything tastes like regret.

Raven thought, back when she told Gar no, that she would be ready when it finally happened, that she’d know better than this. Slow mornings in the shower, imagining the warmth of lust that makes sense, but _this—_

“Fuck!” Blackfire shouts behind her, the door banging, footsteps pounding twenty feet back. “Fuck, I don’t know your name—”

Which is the literal cherry on top of this disaster that makes Raven reel around in the middle of this empty hallway with its shiny floors and silvered walls, so completely overstimulated with _feelings_ that she doesn’t have the names for that her magic cracks a line down the nearest window.

She’s got nothing left but laughter.

Blackfire grabs her wrist, pulling her back toward the room like she’s afraid someone will see them, and maybe Raven entertains the thought. Thinks about pressing her against the wall, the ceiling, the bed.

“You’re a hypocrite,” Raven laughs, not caring that Blackfire is still naked, that their chests are too close, that Blackfire smells like last night’s memories.

“Does that surprise you? Shit, it’s been so long since I—”

“—fucked a demon?”

“Apologized.”

Raven is still half-laughing, unhinged. She realizes how close their faces are. The sort of unfinished boniness in Blackfire’s hollow cheeks, the gaunt shadow of her eyes, the bite marks from where Raven dug into the crook between her neck and shoulder.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“Fuck you. Let me say sorry _,_ or else I’m the asshole who made your first time shit.”

“It wasn’t shit.”

“Do you even remember it?” Blackfire asks, voice strained, digging her thumbs into Raven’s wrist.

The answer is no. That it is blurred together, lost in static, lavender, electric pink. That the glow of crimson magic drowned out the details.

“Xhal,” says Blackfire, face falling.

“It’s fine. I got what I wanted.”

Except when Raven tries to move, so they can pretend this never happened, so they never have to tell Kori, Blackfire runs her hand down Raven’s cheek. Softly, this time.

A lot softer than last night.

“What are you doing?”

“Are my emotions fucking with you right now?”

“No.” Raven stills as Blackfire presses a faint kiss to her forehead, her skin smelling like citrus, lemons. This is tame compared to the funeral. Just one person she has to block, not thousands. “But I want to know what we’re doing before we do it.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Another kiss, brushed across the tip of her nose. Something tender. Something apologetic. Raven feels her stomach curl in as heat spreads down.

“No.”

Thick muscle, a thigh nudging Raven’s legs open. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Not until I know what this is,” Raven says, a moan slipping out. Her breath going shallow.

“You want someone to”—the sudden pressure of wet tongue behind her ear—“ _explore_ with. Right?”

“Blackfire—”

“It’s Komand’r.”

“ _Hah._ ”

“Someone you won’t mess it up with?”

Raven curls her fingers in, holds onto Blackfire’s naked hips.

“Someone who wants to show you what good sex feels like. Sex you’ll remember.”

“ _Ah._ I don’t know if—”

A kiss on her collarbone, like Blackfire is tracing the lines of her body, memorizing every dip, every inch.

“What’s your name, babe?”

“Rave— _unh—_ Raven.”

“I’m just looking for a distraction.”

“I’m not—” Raven gasps as warm hands peel the front of her robes open, smooth down her nipple, roll across it, squeeze. “My magic can’t—”

“Not that kind of distraction.” Another kiss, on the lips, slow, unhurried. Like they have forever, like right now is real. “Not asking for a therapist, babe.”

“How”—a hissed _Azar_ as a hand grazes over sensitive skin and fingers dip inside her—“how long?”

“Until you go back to Earth. Until I don’t need you.”

Raven’s control snaps as she lunges for Blackfire’s wrists, angling their bodies, pressing golden skin and muscle into the smooth wall. Her mouth is too busy to breathe, to talk, to explain why this will explode when it’s over. Because right now is sticky-sweet, tender, and it’s so close to what she wants, what she imagined after Paris, and she doesn’t want to explain why it’s a bad idea, just doesn’t want to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t write the fall-out of this couple, but it’s self-explanatory. Eventually the team goes back to Earth, and the relationship burns itself out. Blackfire starts to work through her problems, and they just…don’t need each other anymore.


End file.
